


Someday, Someday

by Daisy_Rivers



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: F/M, Revolution, alternative universe
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-08
Updated: 2017-03-08
Packaged: 2018-10-01 04:50:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,360
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10181057
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Daisy_Rivers/pseuds/Daisy_Rivers
Summary: A maybe one-off, maybe first chapter of a sort-of sequel to "Provoke Outrage," set in the same AU, with Katie as a college student. It's from her perspective, so a different look at the characters. If enough readers are interested, I'll probably keep going, so it's in your hands, guys.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Katie's a college student at Penn, living a totally non-insurrectionist life.

My name is Katherine Schuyler Motier, but everybody calls me Katie. I spent the first few years of my life hiding out in isolated cabins or safe houses with a group of revolutionaries, and the next fifteen or so living the life of privilege on Philadelphia’s Main Line. If you haven’t figured it out already, yes, I’m related to the famous Schuyler sisters. In fact, I am a Schuyler sister, something that most people either never knew or have forgotten.

Here’s the story: I wasn’t even a year old when King’s Stormtroopers (AKA the Greaters) charged into our house in Albany. My parents, Philip and Catherine, were arrested, and later killed. You probably know that part. My seventeen-year-old sister, Peggy, grabbed me and ran; we hid in the woods until she got help and fled to New York City to meet up with our other two sisters, Angelica and Eliza, who were in college.

That’s where Peggy met Lafayette, and to hear them tell it, fireworks went off, bells rang, and sparkly pink hearts flew through the air. They still act like that, and for God’s sake, he’s forty, and it’s pretty embarrassing sometimes. Anyway, they eventually got married and adopted me, mostly for legal reasons, which is why Motier got attached to my name. That’s Lafayette’s name, the Lafayette part is a title, not worth explaining. They raised me, and honestly, despite the eyeroll-worthy madly-in-love behavior, nobody could have better parents. When I was little, I called them _Tatie_ and _Tonton_ , French for Auntie and Uncle, because we all speak French, of course (Lafayette, you know), but then when my brothers and sisters started coming along – yeah, they’re actually my nieces and nephews if you’re still following, but whatever – I started calling them Mom and Dad, or Maman and Papa, depending on which language we were speaking at the time. Most people just assume I’m the oldest of their many (another eyeroll here) biological children.

So if you know anything at all about the Second Insurrection, which you better if you’ve ever gone to school, you know that means I’m also related to General Alexander Hamilton, who married Eliza, and Lieutenant Governor Angelica Schuyler of New York. Believe me, she’ll be dropping the “Lieutenant” part of that soon. I’m also kind-of-but-not-really related to John Laurens-Schuyler, the artist. He was recently a finalist for the Caldecott Medal for his illustrations in the children’s book _Runners: Children of the Insurrection_ , by Rebecca Jenkins. John’s sister and brother, Marcy and Harry, were actually runners, and they knew Becky Jenkins. It’s a great book, if you haven’t read it yet.

Anyway, John is the absolute best uncle ever – you know, the one who lets you eat all the ice cream you want, or takes you to see the midnight premier of the new movie, or just sits with you while you cry/vent/brag about your boyfriend. He has more patience than anyone I’ve ever known. He almost didn’t make it through the Second Insurrection a couple of times, and he’s got the scars to prove it. That’s one of the few things he doesn’t talk about much; he’ll answer questions, but he won’t elaborate, and I love John, so I don’t want to make him tell stories he’d rather not.

John’s got four younger siblings who, like me, were orphaned in the Insurrection. His mom had passed away a while before, but his dad was killed in one of the explosions in Charleston, and Uncle John had to go rescue the kids in some complicated mission. Aunt Eliza and Uncle Alex were in on that too, but it’s another thing I don’t have any details on. He brought Marcy, Harry, James, and Polly back to Philly, and we all lived together for a while, but then Uncle John moved to the Capital right before the First Free Election. Uncle John’s youngest sister, Polly, has been my best friend since I was three. She’s a little older than I am, so she’s always been a year ahead of me in school, and she was in the Capital and I was in Philly, but now we’re both at Penn and we get to hang out all the time.

There are a few other people who are part of my crazy family. My Uncle Herc is Hercules Mulligan, the New York designer. I was lucky enough to have him custom decorate my room when I was little. According to the family, my request for the design was “purple and turtles” (I had a thing for turtles when I was a kid). Fortunately, he’s so talented that my room was absolutely gorgeous, and he included enough purple and turtles to keep four-year-old me happy. Actually, Uncle Herc did the interior design for our whole house, which is that gigantic gray stone thing right past the curve in Abergwesyn. Yeah, I know, it’s big, but we’re a big family.

That’s partly because, as my mom says, families come together in lots of different ways, and I guess that’s especially true in wartime. I was raised by my sister and brother-in-law, and the younger Laurens-Schuyler kids were raised by their brother. Another girl that I grew up with, Teddie Burr, lost her mom in one of the battles. That is the saddest story of all to me, because Teddie was just a tiny baby at the time, and she has no memories of her mother. My mom and especially my Aunt Eliza talk about Teddie’s mom, Desi, a lot. My sister Libby is even named for her – her full name is Elizabeth Theodosia, which is quite a mouthful, but mom and dad really wanted to honor Desi. Uncle Aaron, Teddie’s dad, has a picture of her that Uncle John painted, and she was just breathtakingly beautiful. When I was little, I used to cry about her, but my mom says that one of the hard lessons of war is understanding that we have to be thankful for every day we have because nothing is promised. I try to remember that, and I have to say that my parents and aunts and uncles have raised all of us to be grateful for what we have. We’ve never had to worry about having enough, since both my dad and Uncle John inherited a lot of family money. I’ve been able to have lots of things like vacations in France that other kids can only dream of. In spite of that, though, mom and dad have insisted that we all volunteer to help others. Everybody knows that one of the things that triggered both the First and the Second Insurrections was the unfair and unconstitutional treatment of the poor. My brothers and sisters and I have grown up with more than enough, but we’ve always known that we have a responsibility to give back, and that many people suffered and died for that principle.

That’s probably enough introduction for now. What I really want to write about is something I’m planning to spring on my parents at Thanksgiving. It doesn’t just involve me, which makes it very complicated, and the only person I’ve talked to about it is Polly. After she got done screeching, she was totally able to see my side. I haven’t even told Uncle John because – well, let’s just say there’s a very good reason.

So here we are, the week before Thanksgiving, which, let me tell you, is a gigantically big deal in my family, with people coming from all over to celebrate. A lot of them are pretty well-known. I mean, we’ve had paparazzi on the lawn trying to get pictures of Uncle Alex, and I can’t tell you how many gazillion times somebody has yelled, “The Schuyler sisters!” Mom, Aunt Eliza, and Aunt Angelica are always nice about posing for photos, but you know, it’s hard to keep a low profile in this family. Right now, I’m kind of wishing that I was Katie Smith in some suburban development and nobody was going to notice anything I did – not really, I love my family, but this Thanksgiving is going to be …. challenging. Wish me luck!

**Author's Note:**

> Several of the towns on the Main Line have Welsh names like Bryn Mawr and Bala Cynwyd, so I stole the name Abergwesyn from a map of Wales. Just assume it's like all the other towns on the Main Line.


End file.
